


you go fast (i'll go slow)

by nikneedsalife



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/F, Ficlet Collection, Gen, M/M, Platonic Relationships, and prompts from tumblr, from sprints on the klanceandfriends discord, occasional klance, the real space gays: acxa and ezor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-03-15 01:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 6,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13603002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikneedsalife/pseuds/nikneedsalife
Summary: “You know- technically we’re criminals.”Lance makes a choking noise. Hunk thunks him on the back until the alien cereal dislodges out of his throat. Pidge gives him a disgusted look.    “Charming,” Keith says, lifting an eyebrow.***ficlet collection





	1. PROMPT #1 - things you said under your breath

**Author's Note:**

> a collection of sprints from the klanceandfriends discord and prompts from my tumblr, bc i don't like having 200-800 word stuff just... lying around. _sigh._
> 
> sprints aren't always my best work bc they're a rushed mess. some sprints are missing bc i was _too_ dissatisfied with them. prompts are always the first chapters, no matter the chronological order of creation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the [prompt meme](http://nikneedsalife.tumblr.com/post/173898346041/prompts-1-things-you-said-at-1-am-2-things): _"things you said under your breath"_
> 
> Requested by [tommino](http://alchemist-rising.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [Prompts are still open!](http://nikneedsalife.tumblr.com)

     Ezor reminds Acxa of the waterfall slotted between the rumbling mountains of her childhood planet, tips of jagged rock like knives. From afar, Ezor is beautiful, untouchable: a shimmering mess of woven water, glimmering like the stars. Long winding rivers of misty foam and scattered rainbows that shift, unreachable, when Acxa moves. 

   But Acxa climbed that waterfall’s cliff once, as high as she could go—back when life was a little easier on the eyes—and she knows. She knows the brute power of the beautiful water, how it obliterates all thought and everything underneath into shards, the crystal calm turning to shattered glass in the freefall. She knows the wet rock, the blunt cut of cool stone on her knees, what it feels like to drink from the slight edge of a thundering monster with a trembling hand. 

     Acxa knows what it’s like to slip, to feel the slow tip of gravity, the accelerated collision of a rippling mirror. The accidental lurch in her stomach as her body drops like a stone and all she can feel, all she can see, all she can hear—numb. 

     Falling for Ezor feels like that: a dangerous mistake, tempted by beauty and drawn by unbeknownst power. Reaching out to touch; freefall. Except right before the silent wall of water and mist, there are words torn from her lips until she only breathes them.

     “Beautiful.”


	2. PROMPT #2 - things you said in the spur of the moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the [prompt meme](http://nikneedsalife.tumblr.com/post/173898346041/prompts-1-things-you-said-at-1-am-2-things): _“things you said in the spur of the moment”_
> 
> Requested by [aqua](http://aquacanis.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [Prompts are still open!](http://nikneedsalife.tumblr.com)

   “We could leave.“

   The words, quick and rushed, are out there before Lance can think about them. He doesn’t even know where the thought came from. All Lance knows is that he’s tired, tired to his bones, which feel raw and wary every time he has to lay his eyes on a worn-out set of controls in a just-as-worn-out red lion.

   Worn-out controls that Lance has to use every single day for who knows how long, controls that let him fly faster than light when handled right, controls that have been covered in his blood and his shaking hands, controls he’s had to let go of to block out screams like fire, controls he’s gripped so hard his fingers crack. 

   Keith jerks away from his curled up body, stretching until he catches sight of Lance’s conflicted expression. There’s a small curl of hair over his left eye. Lance gently goes to brush it away, fingers lingering on Keith’s skin.

   “Leave?” Keith asks tentatively. 

   Lance hadn’t thought this through; he’s too used to sharing his honest mind with Keith. The idea just occurred to him. But, “Yeah. Hitchhike on spaceships. Explore the universe. Take our time to discover planets we’ve never seen before. On our own terms.”

   Lance sits up, looks at Keith, and imagines a whole new world to explore with him at his side. He wants Keith’s smile to get him through the day, he wants Keith’s laugh when they go exploring in their free time.

     But they don’t have a lot of free time, fighting for Voltron, and Lance lives in constant fear of danger, of losing the ones he loves. It used to be fun—now, Lance wonders how long they can still go on like this. 

   “You want to… leave Voltron?” Keith hesitates and glances up at Lance like he’s never really seen him before. “Stop saving the universe?”

   “Saving the universe is a big job,” Lance says, and feels extremely selfish under Keith’s steadfast, judgemental gaze. If they left, sacrificed their fight for the greater good against their happiness, how many others would suffer until Voltron found sufficient replacements?

   “But it’s _our_ job.” Keith’s voice is cold and stiff. Lance realises all of a sudden that, in a way, Keith is stronger than he’ll ever be, iron-willed and dedicated with every fiber of his body.

   “Never mind,” Lance mutters, lying back down in his bunk and the cradle of Keith’s arms. “It was just a thought.”


	3. SPRINT #1 - Video Games

  “What time is it?” Pidge yawns from somewhere under three- no, four- blankets. When Lance glances over, the only thing he can see is a tuft of golden-brown hair, a lime-green sock with little aliens on it, and the soft, multi colored glow of a videogame screen at full brightness through several layers of thick cloth.

  “I don’t know. Keith, what time is it?” 

  Keith, in his own little corner on the couch, yawns even louder than Pidge; Lance can see his sharp canines clearly. “I don’t know. Check your screen.”

  “I’m in the middle of a very important game right now! I can’t just click it away.”

  “You’re playing Angry Birds,” Pidge mumbles. Keith frowns, and digs his toes into Lance’s leg opposite him. Lance bats them away one-handedly. 

  ”Huh. I would have pegged you for a  _ Galaxy Fight 2.3  _ kinda guy,” Keith says.

  Lance is promptly distracted. “You play  _ Galaxy Fight 2.3 _ ?” 

  “Yeah- didn’t everyone at the Garrison? Why do you think Shiro and I were always in the rec room?”

  “That explains so much, now. But yeah, I played;  _ fancylance1 _ . You’d probably remember it, I was always trying to reclaim first place from some other guy.”

  Keith smirks.

  “Wait.” Little gears fall into place almost audibly. 

  Keith’s smirk gets even wider. “You’re the asshole who kept on beating my highscores?” Lance yells.

  They stay up another three hours battling on a hijacked copy of  _ Galaxy Fight 2.3 _ . Shiro finds them the next morning, red-eyed and hair-tousled, then berates them until Pidge falls asleep halfway through a sentence. 

 

  (Shiro should have nothing to say. He beats both of their scores within an hour.)

  
  



	4. SPRINT #3 - Photograph

_ First snapshot _

  Keith is holding a dripping cone of pale strawberry ice cream. There’s a sunhat balanced precariously on his head, dark hair fanning out underneath in the breeze. A smudge of sunscreen on his cheek and it’s difficult to tell whether the reddened skin is a blush or a sunburn. Behind him, blurry azure ocean and a dancing shadow moving through the waves.

 

_ Second snapshot _

  Keith, again, this time from afar. Lance has both arms wrapped tightly around his torso as he wrestles Keith into the waves. The sun glints off their wet skin as Keith’s legs flail, moments before submersion. Lance’s face isn’t visible, but his hair is a giant mess; Keith has one hand in it, trying to push him off. Keith is smiling.

 

_ Third snapshot _

  Almost the same scene, taken moments after. Keith is trying to pull Lance down with him. White water splashes in all directions around them, hiding part of the view. Behind Lance’s back, Pidge- sunglasses askew- is mid-leap. 

 

_ Fourth snapshot _

  Lance goes down under a wave with Pidge on his back, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Keith fist pumps, mouth open as he crows in laughter. The picture is once again a little shaky. 

 

_ Fifth snapshot  _

__ A selfie. Hunk, sipping out of a sharp purple glass. Behind his left shoulder, Pidge and Keith are blurry as Lance races towards him, eyes fixed on the camera. The sand kicks up around their feet. 

 

_ Sixth snapshot _

  Part of the picture is obscured by an oversized straw hat. Hunk is carrying Lance and Keith towards the ocean on both shoulders. Keith seems to be wiggling with all his might, all flailing limbs. Lance has the expression of someone who has accepted their unfortunate fate as he smiles droopily towards Keith. 

__


	5. SPRINT #4 - Dream

 

  If you had told Lance a month ago (or longer, or shorter, because time is difficult to tell in space) that he would miss Keith, he would’ve laughed so hard.

  But the fact is, Lance  _ does  _ miss Keith. He gets on like a house on fire with Pidge, Hunk is his best bud, he respects Coran and Shiro and Allura is a queen that deserves the world; there’s no one to argue with, to vent his frustrations at. Yes, Lance knows it’s unhealthy that Keith was that person, but Keith also kept him something a little closer to sane when he was so far away from Earth. He misses that.

  Now, if Lance ever gets crabby, or insecure, he can’t just goad Keith until it turns into a yelling match. Guilt ate him up the first time he got snappy at Pidge and since then, he just leaves the room to stew away at his pillow. 

  Perhaps that’s not the only reason he misses Keith, though. Despite all their arguing and rivalry, Keith had become- through sheer stubbornness and teamwork- something a little like a friend. A frenemy. Keith has an incredible sense of dry humor when he tries, knows how to pilot, cares about his friends, and is incredibly stubborn. Even more stubborn than Lance. 

  Lance continues to toss and turn for a while as he muses this. Keith was a part of this team, despite how much Lance protested. Shiro is a little quieter now, intently focused on their missions, and both Pidge and Hunk get a little frustrated when they have no one to bounce their respective conspiracy/mechanic questions off.

  Lance lays there for a while, eyes closed; until suddenly, the door hisses open.

  “Pidge, go away. It’s late.”

  “It’s not Pidge.”

   Lance almost falls out of his bunk in surprise, a tangle of limbs and blankets. The familiar voice fills him with unfamiliar warmth. “Keith?” he says, swinging his body to the side so he can look at the door. 

  And it is  _ Keith _ , with his familiar greasy hair and violet eyes, tiny red jacket and tight, tight jeans. “Hey.”

  “What are you-” Lance tries to bring out, but chokes a little on his words. He thought Keith was going to be gone for at least half a year. The sudden lump in his throat- is he  _ tearing up _ ?

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Buddy, this definitely does matter. When did you get here?-”

  “Lance.”

  “-Does Shiro know? Please tell me Shiro knows,-”

  “Lance.”

  “-because if he doesn’t, you’re gonna get murdered for not seeing him first, you know that ri-”

 “ _ Lance _ ,” Keith says forcefully. He paces towards Lance, a slow stalk. 

  Lance, uncharacteristically, is quiet. The tone of Keith’s voice tells him there’s something going on. “Is there something wrong?” He can’t help but ask as Keith stops right next to his bunk. 

  Keith hasn’t broken eye contact with him once. The piercing look burns right through Lance. 

  “I miss you,” Keith says, and leans forward a little.

Lance wakes up with a start and the feeling like he’s falling. He breathes sharply, and thinks;  _ oh _ . 


	6. SPRINT #5 - Cold

  After their latest battle, something malfunctions in the Castle. And because they have no clue why and unlike most other problems, it doesn’t seem to be repairing itself, they’re stuck with it for the time being. 

  Granted, it’s not really life-threatening. In fact, it’s perfectly survivable throughout the day, when all the lights are on and they’re moving about wearing several layers. But at night the Castle’s refusal to heat up turns feeling cold into feeling  _ cold _ . Even Hunk, who can sleep under any condition, has problems. Pidge barely sleeps at all now. And Lance, who needs to block out light and sound before he can achieve enough peace, joins them. Only Keith doesn’t seem to mind; he explains it’s all those freezing nights in the desert shack.

  The insistent cold would also be a lot easier to deal with if the Castle wasn’t, first of all, a giant metal refrigerator, and second of all, extremely lacking in the blanket department. Pidge can understand that, okay, not all aliens sleep as much and as deeply as humans do. And not all of them sleep in beds. All of them have one thin comforter to snore under; but when Pidge raids the closet in desperation of something more insulating, the only thing she turns up with is paladin armor and fancy robes. The fancy robes are piled upon each other, but the soft silk does barely anything to help. 

  Eventually, on the third night, Pidge gives up. There’s no way she can do this another night. She fell asleep while beating Matt at Space Invaders today.  _ Space Invaders _ . Against  _ Matt _ . Possibly the most exciting thing that isn’t fighting purple alien overlords. Pidge once almost choked on a sock, that’s how intense it is. She just can’t get  _ warm _ . 

  Pidge slips out of bed- trips over a dirty plate and gets her foot stuck under a circuit- and heads out of the hissing door, down the hall.

  “Keith,” she whispers, knowing Keith is mostly likely to be the only one who can fall asleep again should she wake him up. And also the less likely one to throw a pillow at her if she does. Pidge jumps back a little in surprise when the door slides open easily, revealing Keith already sitting upright and rubbing at his eyes blearily.

  “Pidge?” Keith asks drowsily. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s cold,” Pidge says, unsure on how to ask her question.

  “Really?” Pidge stares at him, wide-eyed with an expression of  _ what _ ? It takes a moment, but Keith cracks, laughing. “Yeah, I noticed. Come here,” he says, and lifts up part of his blanket.

  Pidge scuttles over gratefully, and slips underneath. “Thanks.” 

  “No problem.”

  It takes a while, but Pidge feels a little warmer, and warmth means sleep.

  Not sleep for long though, because- in what feels like too short of a time- the door slides open.

  “You too?” Pidge hears Keith ask. Pidge groans and squints her eyes shut, attempting to rejoin the sweet realm of dreams. 

  Another body lands on the mattress next to her, this time with a blanket. 

  “Hey Pidge,” Lance whispers. Pidge blindly tries to tap him on the arm, but misses completely. “Cold, right?”

  “Shut up,” Pidge mutters, and Lance moves under the blanket.

 Sometime later, the door slides open again. This time, Pidge sits up angrily, only to falter when she sees Hunk. “Oh, fine,” she says, when a third blanket and a fourth body hits the mattress, jostling both Lance and Keith, who barely stir.

  “Pyjama party,” Hunk mutters with a smile.

  Pidge rolls over into the corner, and finally falls into a deep sleep. 


	7. SPRINT #6 - Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love sprints bc i'm finally learning to actually finish a darn fic. also they keep that creative flow going.

“I’m telling you, the Castle’s haunted,” Lance whispers conspiratorially to Hunk over dinner. “For the past three nights I can hear these footsteps echo around the Castle. Last night, they passed in front of my door, but when I went to check, no one was there. I’m telling you, haunted.”

  Hunk scoffs. “Bro, we’ve had this discussion before; ghosts aren’t real.”

  Pidge plunks her plate down next to Hunk. “They are.”

  “Thank you,” Lance says, shooting her a nod, “see? The Castle’s super old, there’s bound to be some dead people floating around.”

  “It’s probably just Shiro.”

  “No, it’s not. The footsteps are lighter than that, and faster. But why anyone would go running at midnight is beyond me. Pidge, have you heard anything?”

  Pidge laughs. “Nah, man, by that time I’m either out like a light or so deep in code I wouldn’t even notice the sirens. And I know Keith sleeps like the dead, if he ever does, and Allura and Coran barely sleep anyway. Shiro is awake sometimes, but he never leaves his room.”

  “I’ll prove it to you,” Lance says. “You’ll see.”

   That night, Lance grabs his phone at the ready and waits patiently in his room for the footsteps to start. At midnight, they start; echoing, rhythmic thumps that seem to reverberate through the halls. They get closer- Lance tenses- then fade away again. 

  Technically, Lance knows ghost don’t scientifically exist. But then again, he’d never though giant robot lions forming one giant robot existed either. So when the footsteps get startlingly close, he leaps out of the door wielding his phone and screaming.

  Keith screams right back, and tries to deck him.

  Lance ducks right on time. “ _ Keith _ !” 

  “ _ Lance _ !” Keith shouts back, voice a little high. He stumbles into the wall, fist clenched. “What the  _ fuck _ !”

  “I thought you were- you know what, doesn’t matter. What on earth are you doing?”

  “Running, obviously,” Keith hisses. “The training room gets boring and it’s not like I can go for a run in the park here.”

  “It’s late-as-fuck o’clock, Keith.”

  “So?” Keith shrugs. “Sometimes I can’t sleep.”

  Lance quiets a little. “Yeah, I get that.”

  “Now if you’ll excuse me; I have another seven corridors and a banquet hall to cover.” Keith makes a start to head off, but Lance grabs him by the wrist.

  “Wait a sec, I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay?” Keith seems dubious, but he does.

  When Lance comes back out, he’s wearing gym shoes and sweatpants.

  “This is the first time I’ve seen you out of jeans,” Keith tells him. There’s the hint of a smile.

  “Shut up and run, mullet.”


	8. SPRINT #8 - Superhero

“Come at me again, you fucker.” There’s a smear of blood soaked through the royal blue of Lance’s mask. He tears himself off the ground in one fast movement and gets into a stance, fists lifted and feet planted firmly on the concrete. 

  Opposite him, Red cocks an eyebrow. Through the scarlet bandana tied around half of his face, Lance can’t tell if he’s smirking, but Red radiates such an air of smug satisfaction that Lance moves to attack again. A few short jabs, Red ducks, and then a leg swipe; Lance’s- or the vigilante known as Blue- specialty. Red seems to see it coming, jumps, and uses his downcoming weight to plant both palms in Lance’s chest, effectively sending him reeling. 

  “Is that all you’ve got?” Red’s muffled voice goads as Lance stumbles straight, chest heaving and out of breath. Lance goes at him again, but barely makes it a few feet before Red runs towards him and- has him in a vicious headlock. 

  “Let go of me,” Lance chokes out, fingers scrabbling at the arm pulled tight around his neck. 

  “Or else?” Red leans forward when he says it, whispered into Lance’s ear. “You’ll wriggle your way out of my arms?”

  “Shut up, you-” A few choice expletives that would have his abuelita fainting in shock are spat out. 

  To his surprise, Red suddenly lets him go. Lance falls to the ground, gasping for air. He scrambles up as soon as his legs will hold him, and goes back into position. “Persistent,” Red remarks, seemingly unbothered, and stalks towards him; the fire in his eyes shows that he’s going for the winning blow. Lance prepares himself for a hit that can come at any moment, because Red is a quick and as vicious as a viper, all fists and knees and anything he can get his hands on. If Lance wants to get out of this fight with his pride intact, he’ll have to use his wits.

  Red moves like lightning, slamming an elbow with so much brute force that Lance can feel the ghost of where it would’ve hit if he hadn’t jumped away on time. That doesn’t deter Red; he twists, going for a kick, Lance ducks, grabs him by the shoulder, another around his neck, Red twists again, Lance rips of the bandana as he holds on for dear life, Red goes for a punch as his loose arm swings back, Lance pulls Red towards him and-

  Red tastes like blood, but perhaps some of that may be Lance’s fault. It's teeth and anger and Red’s sudden stilling struggle. 

  They part, Lance shoving Keith away with a boisterous laugh and swiping the blood away from his lips. “I win.”

  “You cheated,” Keith tells him calmly, finally a little winded as he stumbles back. “What are you gonna do when you actually fight a real villain?”

  “Not that, obviously.” It’s Lance’s turn to grin cockily. “That special move is reserved just for you.” 


	9. SPRINT #10 - Crime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a new hobby and that's sliding in discrete pop cult references.

 

  “You know- technically we’re criminals.”

  Lance makes a choking noise. Hunk thunks him on the back until the alien cereal dislodges out of his throat. Pidge gives him a disgusted look. “Charming,” Keith says, lifting an eyebrow.

  Lance, honorably, ignores him. “Pidge, what do you mean?”

  “What is mean is that we’ve broken at least… dozens of laws? We trespassed on a sectioned off government area to steal away Shiro, escaped the Garrison on a hoverbike that I’m pretty sure isn’t licensed, crashing our former teachers’ buggies in the process, then flew away in a robot lion which I’m pretty sure has to be illegal in some way, considering our justice system.  _ Former _ justice system, because there’s probably an infinite amount of laws in the universe and we have to have broken at least a few with the shit we get up to.”

  “Quiznak,” Lance moans, gazing into empty air, “I’m a criminal.” Hunk looks surprisingly undisturbed by this fact. Keith snorts, which makes Lance glare at him again; “Shut it, mullet. That jacket is a felony all by itself.”

  “Matt is gonna be so proud of me,” Pidge muses. 

  Hunk seems a little more unsettled now. “What’s my mom gonna think?” He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.

  “Heck if they even know we’re alive.” The table falls silence as everyone looks at Lance. The truth is, most of them miss their families, miss Earth so bad sometimes it hurts. But they can’t have any contact, haven’t heard anything about the situation, don’t know how the Garrison has handled their disappearance. All they can do to see them again is stay alive until the horrorshow has passed. They try not to think about it too much.

  “Lance-” Hunk starts.

  “It’s 8 am,” Pidge says, with a sense of dark humor. “Can we make a rule not to discuss this stuff until after midday?”

  “You guys are criminals; you’d probably end up breaking that rule as well.” Keith’s attempt at a joke falls a little flat, but they laugh nonetheless, hoping to disperse the heavy sadness in the air a little. 

  It’s the only thing they  _ can  _ do; think about it, crack a joke, and move on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me @ myself: wtf brah how did you turn this into angst


	10. SPRINT #11 - The angstiest angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **please be aware: major character death(s)! do _not_ hesitate to skip this one.**
> 
> technically this is sprint #12, but #11 got out of hand so y'all can find it separately [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13684101)
> 
> alternatively titled: _the one that made the whole server hate me_

_Fifteen seconds_. That’s how long it takes to lose consciousness without a suit in space. Then another two minutes, and death. Lance knows this; midnight internet searching during revisions with Pidge and Hunk in their room. That’s three seconds for every paladin, including him, everyone who has been lost and is being lost.

  Lance floats without a suit in space.

  Keith was the first to go, in a forest of white-hot flames and stifling ash as the planet disintegrated around them. One final, proud scream tearing from his throat over the comms, and the shocking helplessness as they had to watch Keith sacrifice himself for the only family he’d ever known. Then a blasting buzz of static.

  Shiro went next; already as empty as the air, meek and beaten, the fire in his heart having gone out with Keith. He left one night, and simply never came back; as if their proud leader had never been there at all.

  Pidge, a tear so large in their hearts, a gaping wound of wrongness, that the replacement paladins refused to form Voltron unless absolutely necessary. Crushed and tangled they found her underneath the ruins of a great forest. So small and frail in Hunk’s arms, like the child she really was.

  Losing Hunk had meant the end of the dusty, obscure road for Lance. _Hunk_ , loyal to the end, dependable frame that could hold up everything but the tonnes of rock as the caves collapsed around them. They never found his body, and Lance never found his peace after that.

   _Three seconds_. The last of the paladins that had woken up Blue so, so many years ago. The universe, pinpricks of stars slowly darkening before his eyes, would be in good hands. It’s time for him to go home.

  Lance sees his family, and the family that fought with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tommino](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommino) added a final line to this: "and then lance woke up and everybody had a party and nobody cried ever THE END!"


	11. SPRINT #11 - Restless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mood music: [Fools](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfD96yRT8cs) \- Troye Sivan

 Lance is restless, moving, buzzing, and he can’t sit still. The frantic tapping of knuckles on the table interferes with the loud ticking of the watching Pidge made for him. He’s nervous, so nervous.

  Lance closes his eyes, sees the blue dance of light off a swimming pool, the dirt kicked up in clouds by the run of bare feet, the push and pull of lips like waves, a blanket and a body wrapped so tight next to him he’s heating up. The rough voices as they yell at each other at midnight, the weightless buoyancy as they tear after each other in the water, the slow roll of droplets down the bridge of Keith’s nose. Fingers skittering down the warm skin of his back, the tickle of dark hair as he sits close to Keith for one last time. 

  The feeling of falling out of a dream, waking up to his cold hand pressed into even colder sheets. The gnawing idea of someone missing; that he was a fool for having fallen into the dream in the first place, when all dreams do are leave. 

  The watch is drowned out by huffed breathing, the nervous tapping stills, familiar rough hands wind around him like they’re fitting back into place. Like coming home. Sharp violet eyes, then burning contact as they touch again for the first time in months. The nice thing about this dream is that Lance gets to feel it in reality. 

  “I missed you,” he says. 


	12. SPRINT #13 - Sports

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in honor of the olympics, the theme was _sports_

_Pchew._

“Four to three, mullet!”

  Keith angrily jostles the gun off his shoulder. “For the last time, unfair advantage! You have your bayard, your gun’s personalized.”

  Lance drops his bayard and stalks over. “Fine. Let’s switch,” he says. Keith shouldn’t find that cocky smirk so attractive, and he hides his fluster with an angry scowl.

  Lance hands the bayard- a scarlet sniper rifle- to Keith. It’s way heavier than it looks and Keith puffs, dragged down by the weight as he rolls back into position. Lance slides in next to him until they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder, fixated on the row of targets at the far end of the training room- which, considering the size of Altean training rooms, is very far.

  Keith lines up the shot, trying not to get too distracted by the heat of Lance’s body lying next to him. He takes a deep breath; stills his body, and presses the trigger. At that exact moment, Lance exhales deeply, and Keith shivers involuntarily. The shot goes _wide_.

  Lance yelps loud enough for Keith to clap his hands over his ears, and springs up crowing his head off. Keith lies there, defeated, and presses his forehead into the cool floor. It does little to soothe away the ego burn.

  “ _Who’_ s the champion sharpshooter? _That’s right_ , it’s me, right here, _Lance_ , in your _face_ !” Lance does a weird little dance that would probably be endearing outside of the current situation and pulls the smuggest of all smuggest faces. “ _Ha!_ ”

  “Fine,” Keith groans, voice low and heavy. “Next challenge; first one to the wall and back.”

  “Oh, you’re _on_.”

  Keith stalks over to Lance who- high on victory- gets into position to start sprinting. Keith steels himself, counts, and they’re both off like a shot.

  There’s something incredibly liberating about running that Keith has always loved. Perhaps it’s the raw, animalistic hit of feet on the floor, or the brutal way in which his heart pumps out of his chest like a drum as they tap the far wall at the same time and leap back like lions. Or maybe it’s the pure force of will Keith has to fit into staying _just_ ahead, the drive to win something from Lance.

  They cross the finish line at the same time, Keith sliding past feet first and Lance throwing his whole body into it, slamming into the floor with a reverberating crack.

  Lance lets out of few choice expletives and moves on his back, chest heaving violently. Keith crouches next to him and pants. “ _Fuck.”_

 _“_ No shit.” Both of them are unable to move without almost passing out for a few minutes. This is why Keith knows he and Lance work so well together, despite their differences. Lance shoves him towards being just that bit better, goads him until Keith becomes so determined he’d move hell on earth to do it. They’re a _team_ that kicks the weak links out of each other, or has each other’s back when stuff comes down to stuff.

  Lance is still panting, mouth wide open and wet and face as red as his bike. Even when he’s such a mess, Lance is a hot mess, and it infuriates Keith beyond belief.

  “Hand-to-hand combat?” Keith suggests, only partly joking.

  Lance flails an arm out to hit him on the leg, then retches loudly. “I would, any day, but if I sit up I’m gonna vomit.”

  How Keith is still attracted to Lance is beyond him.


	13. SPRINT #15 - Seasons

  “Dude, it’s cold as fuck.”

  Next to them, wrapped up in a thick woolen scarf so big it covers half of his face, Hunk shivers violently. “I can tell.”

  The cold is icy, sharp and painful as it pricks into their cheeks. Lance’s eyes feel dry as he blinks quickly. Next to them, Pidge is barely visible underneath a huge-ass ugly Christmas sweater patterned with little green alien equivalents of Rudolph. She muffles something out that none of them understand. The bundle of sweater ruffles, and her head pokes out quickly. “How long until we get back to the Castle?” Pidge asks.

  Keith, all the way on the left, is starting to look a little blue. The only gloves he seems to be wearing are still the stupid-looking cut-off ones, and he hasn’t even switched jackets. “A- a couple m-minutes.” Lance realizes with a start he can actually hear Keith’s teeth chattering. 

  “You okay, mullet?”

  Keith is very quiet, so quiet Lance thinks he hasn’t heard him at first over the crackling tread of their boots in the snow and the icy wind howling in the distance. Then; “No, not really.”

  Lance knows everyone is gaping.  _ Keith _ ? Admitting he isn’t okay? He must  _ really  _ be feeling cold. 

  “Shit man,” Lance mutters, taking his hands out of his pockets and shoves off his gloves with trembling hands. He dangles them in front of Keith. “Here.”

  Keith looks at him for a second, wide-eyed. Then he grabs the soft, thick gloves and gratefully pulls them on. There’s an audible sigh as his fingers fit into the warm space. Lance grins.

  Next to him, Hunk starts unwinding his scarf. Another violent shiver racks through Keith. “Hunk, you really don’t have to.”

  “Nah, it’s cool. I guess since your Galra mom didn’t give you fur you gotta have something, right?”

  The scarf- already pretty big- looks positively gigantic wrapped around Keith’s hunched up figure. Next to him, Pidge groans. “I’d give you my sweater but then I’d freeze to death. I can offer you a hug though?” Pidge stops and holds open her arms. Keith looks at them almost suspiciously, then- to everyone's surprise- steps forward. Pidge’s arms wrap around his waist and she buries her face in the wool of the scarf. Keith is still chattering but it’s decidedly less violent. 

  “C’mon,” Lance laughs, gusts of breath becoming white mist that drifts away slowly, faintly, “we’re almost there.”


	14. SPRINT #16 - Weapon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, my inability to stick to a theme
> 
> this is partly to blame bc i felt like i needed to write some keith angst about shiro's disappearance, which i've never covered before
> 
> _set post s2 with some experimental writing_

  The knife cuts through Keith’s hair with jagged rips, tufts of rough bunches falling to the ground and scattering. Keith grits his teeth and grabs the next pluck, pulling it tight and using his other hand to saw the knife over. It’s going to look a mess, but who is he to care. It’s not like anyone ever does, except for perhaps Shiro. Shiro, who used to sit him down after every failed haircut and trim the mismatched edges into something neater, or carefully buzz a razor over the sides if he cut it too short. Shiro, who’s gone to who the hell knows where. Shiro, whose guiding, helping hand he’s now missing. Shiro, who kept a guy like Keith with no impulse control, on the right path. Shiro, without whom he feels lost, aimlessly drifting around in space with no direction except for Lotor, Lotor, Lotor. 

  Keith throws the knife into the sink with a metal clatter that resounds through the large, empty bathroom. He sits down, heavily, head in his hands and breathing hard. He starts to curse; loud  _ fucks _ that get even louder, louder, louder until Keith is screaming, yelling, kicking the toilet and slamming his fists into the mirror, angry at the universe and angry  _ angry at Shiro _ . 

  The mirror doesn’t crack, of course it doesn’t; this is space, and Keith’s fists can’t seem to do  _ anything _ of meaning in it, not the way they were able to on Earth. On Earth, they left bloody noses and dents in walls and scraped knuckles. Here, they bounce off like they’re meaningless, which Keith guesses they sort of are. In the mirror, he’s nothing but a heaving, red-faced boy, hair mussed and screwed up face and ugly tear tracks mixing with snot. 

  Because as much as Keith pretends otherwise, he’s just a  _ boy _ . He can’t fight the universe. 

  Keith takes a deep breath, and leaves the bathroom. He doesn’t look back at the mess he’s made, nor at the knife laying abandoned in the sink. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near it right now. Keith just wants to be a normal guy, with a normal family, living normal problems. Not whatever fucked up world this is.  

  Keith goes to get dinner, and Lance practically screams when he sees the state of Keith’s hairdo, before yelling at Pidge to  _ grab the fucking scissors _ . 

  Lance painstakingly cuts it into something practical and, well, normal looking, under his bickering with Pidge and his gentle goading towards Keith; gentle, because no one wants to comment on his tear-stained face and red eyes. Hunk gives him first pick of his new batch of biscuits, then claps him on the back so hard all the air leaves his lungs and Lance snips of a part he shouldn’t have. Hunk and Lance argue; Pidge laughs and steals his food. 

  Keith feels the emptiness Shiro leaves, but at least in this crazily unfortunately situation he somehow has weirdly normal  _ friends _ . 


	15. SPRINT #17 - Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes yes i'm alive, IB is hell y'all

 

  There’s something about Keith’s wings that have always fascinated Lance. Sharp edges on brittle looking bone, skin so stretched tight over it that every time Keith pulls into a hurtling dive towards the Earth next to him, every time he flips and dodges with such strength that the breath cuts off in Lance’s throat, every time the vicious edge of a knife barely grazes- Lance is sure that it’ll rip under the tension. 

  But like Keith, high-strung and hotheaded and beautiful, it never does. 

  It’s the way Keith smells like ash and burnt wood, like the charged air before a storm, the way his violet eyes burn with invisible fire and so much  _ strength _ . The weaving strands of red, dark and vivid and bloodshot that curl through their wide expanse as Keith stretches, uncharacteristically unfolds them out towards the world. Unlike Lance, and Hunk, and most of the time Pidge, Keith keeps his wings carefully tucked behind his back, hiding them away with a viciousness of a dragon hoarding away its treasure. 

  Lance’s wings are nothing but a simple, shining, yet plainly even blue. The blue of the calm ocean that sparkles in the blinding summer sun. They’re perfectly smooth, not a blemish in sight; Lance loves his wings, takes care of them with lotion and keeps them open as much as possible. But they don’t have character- not the same way Hunk’s wings are large and boisterous and cracked through wear, Shiro’s as large as sails and rippling with power, or Pidge’s neon green wings that hum quietly with hidden powers. Not like Keith and his wings, such an integral part of the way he fights and moves and carries himself with careful caution like the world is out to get him. 

  When they fly, in perfect formation, wings beating the air like drums, Lance’s eyes are always drawn to their harsh beauty.

  Eventually, his eyes are drawn to Keith’s harsh beauty as well. 


	16. SPRINT #18 - Pastel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell i had to rush to write this in 20mins? it's an uneloquent mess
> 
> this is part of my contribution to the very lacking w|w aspect of the voltron fandom.

  “For quiznak’s sake. Just go talk to her, or else I’ll punch you in the face,” Zethrid says, angrily exasperated, and slams her locker closed with enough force that the bang reverberates through the hallway. Some of the other students next to them are shooting them weird– almost terrified– looks, but Acxa honestly can’t tell if it’s because of Zethrid’s (completely normal) threats, Zethrid’s loud and boisterous personality, or the fact that Acxa’s been glaring at the opposite side of the hallway for the last minute. 

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Acxa mutters back at her. “Look at her.”

_ Her _ designates the always cheerful, enough-enthusiasm-to-rival-the-Super-Bowl, graceful Ezor. And quiznak, if Acxa doesn’t think she’s the most beautiful person she’s ever seen. It’s not just her demeanor that makes her so attractive, though. Or her personality, because Acxa, as brave as she is, doesn’t have the guts to walk up to a cute girl and therefore has no clue what Ezor is truly like (but wouldn’t Acxa like to know). No, Ezor also has the weirdest fashion sense that Acxa’s ever laid eyes on. And she’s friends with Zethrid, who is a firm believer in ‘the more eyeliner the better’ and ‘green is a totally valid lipstick color’. 

  Ezor’s hair– a long, twisting ponytail that reaches down towards the small of her back– is dyed pretty much all the colors in the spectrum that don’t fit together. Pure pink, pastel yellow, neon blue, purple, and a singular streak of sharp cyan. And the _clothing_. It’s like Ezor walked into a thrift store and grabbed every. single. pastel. item she could see. How anyone can make such muted, soft colors so glaringly _in your face_ is honestly way beyond Acxa’s comprehension. 

  But then again, everything about Ezor is _ in your face _ . Ezor’s whole existence is  _ in your face _ . 

  Acxa– quiet, reserved, and she knows this of herself– never thought she’d like that so much.

  “Ridiculous? You’re being ridiculous!” Zethrid glares a very familiar glare. Normal people just look suspicious. Zethrid looks angrily suspicious.

  “What are you–”

  Zethrid, in all her 6”1, barrels into Acxa with enough force to send her stumbling across the hallway and sprawling violently, bag flying open and books–  _ quiznak _ – spilling over the floor like a flood.

  “Shit! Are you okay?” Acxa inhales sharply at the voice and looks up into familiar sharp blue eyes. She can’t even make a sound. 

  Acxa is a pro at staying calm in all situations. She is very decidedly uncalm right now. 

  Through Zethrid’s cackling and Ezor’s loud laugh, Acxa realizes Ezor smells like muted vanilla, which is a fact that she’s a little scared of knowing. Acxa breathes, steels herself for the hurricane known as Ezor, and opens her mouth to speak. 

  Whatever happens now; it can only get better.

**Author's Note:**

> title of the collection from _Fast and Slow_ \- The All American Rejects
> 
> come yell on my [tumblr](http://nikneedsalife.tumblr.com); whether it's about voltron, omgcp, hamilton, or cat allergies. 
> 
>  
> 
> [prompts are still open!](http://nikneedsalife.tumblr.com/ask)


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